


stolen ice cream

by nerdyscully



Category: Saturday Night Live, Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Inspired by Lobby Baby, M/M, Married Life, Meta, Present Tense, Stand Up Comedy, i've never written stand up before so if this is terrible i am so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22273495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyscully/pseuds/nerdyscully
Summary: Inspired by Seth Meyers' Netflix special, "Lobby Baby" - Seth does standup as his husband, Stefon.
Relationships: Seth Meyers/Stefon
Comments: 7
Kudos: 106





	stolen ice cream

**Author's Note:**

> so this idea has been in the back of my mind since Lobby Baby came out last year. if you haven't seen it, i feel like watching it will make this fic more enjoyable! and also, it's just a great special, so please watch it. as i said in the tags, i have never written stand up before, and i'm sure it shows, but i had a lot of fun writing this and i hope that it's enjoyable to read.

Stefon calls his husband every night, no matter what city he’s in or how big the time difference is. True, he’s usually in bed at midnight most days (something he can thank the kids for), but he’ll stay up as late as he needs to so he can say goodnight to Seth over the phone and ask how the show was. Seth loves it; he loves the warmth that settles in his chest when he hears Stefon’s voice, soft and sleepy from a day with their children. He loves the little “mwah” sounds Stefon makes when they have to say goodbye, and how he still sends him a text that says goodnight with a handful of heart emojis after. He loves it all, and he misses it all.

He’s in Minneapolis that night, and the show is being filmed for Netflix. He hates to admit that he’s nervous, because he talks in front of a camera for his _job_. But on the other hand, that’s different. Here, he’s not wearing a perfectly ironed suit, he’s not sitting behind a desk with a tiny doll of his husband sitting on his desk. He’s standing on a completely bare stage aside from a stool with water, no guests beside him, and _now_ he has to be entertaining enough for people on Netflix to watch. He’s done standup before, but he’s not Mulaney.

He’s texting Stefon before the show, asking how things are, how the kids are. _They miss you,_ Stefon types—well, more like _they miss u_ with several frowning face emojis.

 _I miss them too_ , Seth replies, then adds, _and you. I miss you so much, Stef._ He’s had fun, and he’s proud of the material that he’s been sharing with audiences across the states for several weeks now, but he’s ready to go home. He’s ready to see his husband and the kids in person, not on a 5-inch iPhone screen when they FaceTime. It feels a little silly, but he’s been envisioning how it’ll be when Stefon picks him up from JFK—there’s no doubt that he’ll run to him, like it’s some grand romantic reunion, and kiss him in front of God and everyone. And Seth will kiss back because he misses kissing Stefon so much that he aches, just a little, if he thinks about it for too long.

Seth texts Stefon just before he has to go on and receives a _good luck!!!!!_ reply with what must be 20 kissy emojis afterward. He tries to forget that this whole thing will be immortalized by Netflix, and does the set like he has been for the past few weeks.

Talking about Stefon and the kids when he’s away from them helps with the loneliness. It’s comforting, to carry these stories of them from state to state, sharing them with thousands of people who will hopefully remember them fondly. All he can hope is that his love for them comes across in his humor, because he does love them, so much so that he can’t even fully express it.

There’s a bit at the end of the show that he had the idea for in the middle of the night. He had actually woken Stefon up and asked if he could do it; he wouldn’t have included it if he was against it. He had to ask again in the morning, because Stefon had let out a grumpy sort of “fine” and rolled back over, but still accepted Seth’s apology in the form of a goodnight kiss to the cheek. But in the end, Stefon had approved of it, and didn’t even have to request Seth not to call him a bitch and say he hated him, probably because neither of them can imagine a world in which they hate each other.

He doesn’t know how it got into his head that he would do standup _as_ Stefon. He knows how much people love his husband (not as much as him, he is very adamant about that), he hears how people always ask how he is, even though it’s got a joking tone of voice to it. Maybe a part of him wants to prove that they do live an actually quite domestic and normal life, or maybe he just wants to feel like he’s taking Stefon from state to state with him, even though he’s not really there. In the end, it doesn’t matter why he does it, because it’s absolutely the _perfect_ bit to close out the show.

“I’ve talked a lot about my husband already,” he says after a long drink of water that night in Minneapolis. “And shared a lot of funny things that _he_ gets up to, but I believe in seeing both sides, as you know, and I thought to fully understand the kind of people that we both are, I would do standup as my husband, Stefon, about me.” The audience roars with applause, and even though he’s heard it in every city, Seth can’t conceal his grin.

“Alright. Well, then, hi, everyone, my name is Mrs. Stefon Meyers,” he says, in his same, normal Seth Meyers voice—the doesn’t think the joke would work if he was just imitating his husband’s voice the entire time. “My husband sometimes asks me why I call myself _Mrs_., because you know, on all the legal documents I’m _Mr._ Stefon Meyers. And uh, what I usually tell him is that it’s a feminist act, and he just kind of looks at me and nods like—” he gives the audience that nod and smile that he gives Stefon all the time, and there’s laughter and cheers.

“I don’t feel like I have to explain myself to anyone, which I think is something that my husband is jealous of, because he really likes approval from strangers, which I guess makes sense considering that he’s on a fucking standup tour right now.” Hoots and hollers. “But I don’t really care what people think of me, except maybe our kids. I will _agonize_ over birthdays even though our children are 3 and 1 year old. Like, my husband gets confused by it sometimes, because for our son’s 1st birthday, I absolutely _had_ to have everything perfect, even though no one was coming over other than my husband’s parents. You would think I was planning a birthday party for the _king_ , because I was on Pinterest literally half the night trying to figure out what color combinations our 1 year old son, who does not understand English half the time, would like for his birthday party. And when my husband told me that we could give our son a _penny_ as his gift and he would be happy with it, I asked him ‘Who do you think I am, a human piggy bank?’ and then my husband asked me what a human piggy bank was, and—oh, I think you know the rest.” The audience absolutely does, and laughter envelops him as he smiles out at the crowd.

“People see me and they see the way that I dress, which is much more exciting than how my husband does, by the way, and I think they think that I still go out a lot. Any time I am out with my husband, I get asked what New York’s hottest club is, and I have to admit it. _I don’t know anymore!_ I have no clue what New York’s hottest club is anymore, because I’m too busy at New York’s _coldest_ apartment, because my husband keeps the temperature at something barbarically cold. I think a lot of people assume that we’re polar opposites, which is fair, but our biggest difference is our body temperature. My favorite thing to do is come home after a cold day and put my hands on my husband’s face and just _watch_ him. This is my impression of my husband when I put my hands on him after being out in the cold.” He adjusts his demeanor a little. “He’ll say ‘oh, hi, honey—GAHH!’” He jumps and swats his hands and it gets one of the longest laughs of the night.

He shifts gears a little. “I studied abroad in Paris, which a lot of people don’t know, but you know, my husband was telling that story about us in Paris earlier tonight—what he didn’t say is that I had to translate absolutely everything for him.” There’s teasing gasps and giggles. “My husband’s mother was a French teacher, still speaks it nearly perfectly, and her own son can’t tell your more than what color a jacket is or ask you how the weather is. Sometimes I’ll say something in French to the kids, because I’d like them to know another language, and my husband _becomes_ a kid. ‘What are you telling them? Are you talking about me? What does that mean? How do you say this? How do you spell it?’. Like, maybe if you had listened to your own fucking _mother_ , you wouldn’t have to ask _me_ all of this!” He can’t even prevent himself from laughing along with the audience at that one.

“Even though me and my husband are both men, and there’s nothing necessarily straight about our relationship, my husband is the most stereotypical man, sometimes—like, ripped right out of a sitcom in the way that he acts. Not that he’s rude or whiny or anything, but…he just has the strange male inability to get his own shit.” He sees a _lot_ of ladies laughing at that. “We’ll be in the kitchen after the kids have gone to sleep, and I’ll be eating ice cream, and he’ll get a spoon and start stealing bites of _my_ ice cream, and when I _dare_ to tell him to get his own, he’ll just make a noise that’s like—” he does an overexaggerated huff, “And walk over to the freezer, and then, of course, has the _audacity_ to ask me where it is.” The women in the audience cheer at that. “And I’ll say: ‘It’s right in front of you, Seth, don’t you see it?’ and he’ll say: ‘No, I think you ate it all and you’re just saying it’s still there’. And I will tell him, over and over, that the ice cream is probably behind the frozen peas or something, and he will _insist_ that he does not see it.” Seth strolls across the stage, takes another sip of water. “But, one time out of ten, I _will_ have eaten the last of the ice cream, but he can’t ask that, because he _knows_ that he’s wrong the majority of the time. So I will watch his eyes scan across the freezer over and over while I eat the rest of my ice cream, and I think to myself: ‘As long as I can make him do this…I will never be bored in this marriage’.” That’s the last line of his set before he says goodnight, and he can see out of the corner of his eye as he leaves that his audience is giving him a standing ovation.

As always, he can’t wait to tell his husband.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading this silly, experimental fic! comments/kudos/etc appreciated xoxoxox


End file.
